Baby Steps
by vine
Summary: She has to take little steps, to seperate herself from who she wishes she was. A Host AU
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: AS much as I would wish it, the genius of The Host is not mine to claim.**

Doctor Eustace Fords hated scenes like this.

The Emergency Room of the hospital was filled with the metallic scent of fresh blood, making his heart beat faster. His jaw clenched, as he rushed towards the doors, ears straining for details as he grabbed a stretcher.

"Huge pile-up on Highway-"

"This one's losing too much blood!"

"Hold this here, steady-"

"Where... my daughter?"

So many voices. Doc focused on the last one, too faint for his liking, coming from the lady on his stretcher. She was struggling to breathe through a crushed chest. It was amazing that she had the ability to talk at all.

"Don't worry, Miss," he tried to soothe her, as his gentle fingers poked and prodded, assessing the damage. What he found had him frowning, even as he reached for the tube to insert into the lady's deflated lungs. "I'm sure your daughter's fine..."

"My... pet..."

This woman's ribcage was destroyed. Both lungs close to collapsing. It was amazing she had even lasted this long. She'd be gone in seconds, no matter what he did.

Doc tried, as useless as it was. His hands were covered in her blood by the time she was gone, and his eyes were filled with sadness over his sterilized mask. This was not why he went into medical practice. What was the point, if you couldn't make a difference?

Moving to strip his gloves off, wash the blood from his arms, he walked past another cubicle. The occupant looked no older than ten, and was unmistakably the daughter his last patient had been talking about. The resemblance was evident, even to Doc's distracted eye. She looked relatively unharmed- most of the blood that covered her wasn't her own, then- but kept asking in a light, strained voice why she couldn't feel her legs. Doc sighed, allowing himself a moment to gather his wits.

He was going to need a drink after this.

It took Melanie Stryder almost sixteen years to figure out what death really was.

The day stands out clearly in her memories, too. It was the day when her mother received the phone call. The one saying that her best friend had died in a car crash the night before. It had sent the whole family reeling. Melanie had known the kind, gentle woman since as far back as she could remember. She was Mother's friend from high school. They had grown up together, and Melanie had always called her Auntie Cloud, no matter that they weren't related.

When Melanie had been younger, her and Cloud's daughter would pretend they were sisters. Twins, even, when they were little enough to erase the four years between them. But Melanie hadn't seen the younger girl in ages, now. They had drifted, as her life got filled with school and friends and boys... Letting relationships with childhood friends fade, collapse into dust.

Still, when Melanie first heard, her first thought was of her one-time playmate.When she heard of Cloud's death, her heart squirmed.

_What about Wanda?_ She wanted to shout. _Were was she?_

She insisted on following her mother to the hospital, leaving her dad home with little Jamie. Her feet betrayed her before she could take one step past the stark white waiting room, so she crumpled into one of the not-quite-comfortable chairs, and watched her mother's tear-stained face disappear into the hallway.

It seemed to take hours before her mom returned, though the clock on the wall promised it hadn't been more than twenty minutes. There were fresh tears in her mom's eyes, and her attempt to smile through them let them loose, free to slip down her cheeks.

"Wanda's sleeping," her mother choked out the words between tears, but Melanie just blinked. She felt worn out, all dried up. Stuck somewhere between shock and breakdown. That's were she was. She didn't even cry when she saw Wanda's sleeping face. Instead, she felt distant surprise. Had it really been long enough for this little girl's face- one she thought she knew so well- to turn into a stranger's?

"She'll probably never be able to walk easily again." Melanie overheard a nurse saying to her mother. "Severe trauma in both legs, and it will be a miracle if either of them manage to set correctly. And unless we have any luck finding her father, I'm afraid she's going to foster care."

Her mother shifted, unsure whether this statement made her angry enough to force an annoyed reaction. "I'm her godmother," was her somewhat haughty reply. "As soon as she's ready, she can move in with my family."

Melanie chose to tune the conversation out after the talkative nurse began to outline the difficulties that came with such a decision. Instead she gazed at Wanda's unconscious face, so peaceful in it's drug-induced slumber.

In that moment, mortality clicked into place in Melanie's brain. And with it, the last piece of children's naivety vanished.


	2. Five Years Later

**This chapter is in Wanda's point of view, which the rest of the story will be, for the most part. If it is in another point of view, I will mention it at the start of the chapter.**

**Thank you for reading! Constructive criticism is greatly appreciated.**

Chapter 1- five years later

I yawned, letting my arms stretch out as my spine cracked. It was the first day of summer vacation, and I had a solid two months before I had to go back to school and worry about my final year. I intended to make the best of it.

My eyes widened as they spotted the clock hanging above the kitchen sink. I had slept in longer than I thought. It was almost eleven already.

As I went about fixing myself a bowl of cereal, I heard movement on the front porch. Mr. and Mrs. Stryder were both at work today, so I assumed it was Melanie. Jamie wasn't likely to be up for another half hour at least.

"Wanda?" The door creaked open, then swung shut. I couldn't help but smile as I listened to the sound of Melanie taking her shoes off, walking towards the kitchen.

"In here!" I called, and sat down at the breakfast table, biting into my flakes.

A red-faced Melanie popped her head into the kitchen. "Sorry, I was on a run. Is Jamie up yet?"

Caught with my mouth full, I just shook her head. This got a laugh from my godsister, as she slid into the place beside me.

In the last few years, Melanie had grown into a strong, tall woman of twenty-one, with long brown hair, suntanned skin, and a smiling mouth. She had been popular with the boys while she had been in school, and that hadn't changed.

She had also been able to outrun every single one of them. That hadn't changed, either.

Sitting next to me, the stark contrast between Melanie Stryder and me, Wanda Spinner, was almost comical. I tended to look even younger than my seventeen years, with my pale complexion and small build, which I knew gave me a delicate, almost breakable feel. My hair was light, curly and soft, and Melanie always described my bright blue eyes as impossible to distrust.

If you were to glance under the table, you would see my too-skinny, weirdly-bent legs. You would also see the twin canes that reached up to tie around my wrists with little clear strings. You may also pick up on the intense determination in both of the us unrelated sisters. It was the one obvious thing we had in common.

The nurse that had first talked to Mrs. Stryder had been right- I would never walk normally again. Both of my legs were mangled beyond repair, hardly capable of holding my own weight. I was stuck with shuffling through life, relying on the canes tied to my wrists to support me, where my shattered legs could not.

The hardest part, if anyone cared to ask, was the pity I always saw in people's gazes. The way their eyes would flash from my face to my legs and back again. People touched me as if I were about to- to crumble at any given moment.

And what aggravated me even more was the people who shied away. I could tell that they were afraid. Afraid to talk to such a gimp, such a vulnerable little girl. Relationships were dangerous, they reasoned. With unfortunates like that, who knows when they might disappear, leaving you all alone?

"Any plans today, Mel?" I questioned, though I suppose I could already guess. I knew my assumption was well-founded when the red in Melanie's face deepened, and a smile that had nothing to with me crept onto Mel's face.

"Jared's picking me up. We're going hiking, then out for a late lunch." She smiled again, and her eyes glazed over as she stared into space. A usual occurrence when Jared was mentioned.

It was hard to believe they'd been going out for almost two years now. They still acted like every second was theirs, something that faded in most couples within weeks. I felt invasive when the three of them were in the same room.

There was just one problem...

The doorbell rang, and I watched with no little amusement as Melanie's face dropped.

"I suppose he's early," she commented lightly. Mel just scowled at her.

"Get the door slow, okay? And tell him I'll be right down."

She was running upstairs before I could even open my eyes to agree. I rolled my eyes, smiling, then began the painfully slow walk to the front door.

The doorbell rang again when I had made it halfway. If Jared had known it was me getting the door, he wouldn't have bothered to ring again. He was the only person I knew, outside of my own foster family, that didn't treat me differently just because of my- disability. Jared didn't act like I something already broken. It was why I liked him so much. Which was, of course, part of the problem.

Pulling the door open, I was met with Jared's annoyed face. The annoyance dropped as soon as he saw it was me, making my heart beat faster.

"Hey, Wanda! Is Mel there?"

I nodded, suddenly shy. "She'll be down in a moment."

Jared smiled, then walked towards the kitchen, closing the door behind him. I struggled to follow, mentally cursing as my legs refused to listen to my brain's signals.

Footsteps in the kitchen. "Oh, hey Jared!"

That was Jamie. He was the youngest, at fourteen, and he worshiped Jared, who treated him like the brother the kid needed, what with two older sisters hanging around.

"Hey, kid." Was Jared's reply.

"Mel knows you're here, right?" Jamie raised his voice, "Mel! Jared's here!"

"Tell him he's early!" Came the muted reply. Jamie laughed, and I knew that Jared would be smiling, too. Just being near Melanie was enough to do that to them. They seemed to be built for each other.

Finally stepping into the kitchen, my heart started beating faster again. Jared's back was turned to me, as he bent down to Jamie's level. With that increased speed came an odd sort of pain. One I had grown used to, ever since I realized the problem.

I was in love with my sister's boyfriend.

"Hey, Wanda!" Jamie waved wildly at me. His hair was sticking up at odd angles, and his eyes were still heavy with sleep. Just seeing him was enough to place a smile on my lips. Jamie had always had that effect on me. Though he had really only been my brother for the last five years, we were as close as blood siblings.

Jamie, with his youthful ideas, had no problem accepting me as a new member of the family. He had been the first to welcome me, for which I was forever grateful.

"Morning, Jamie." I leaned against the counter, making sure none of the stiffness of my legs showed on my face. Jamie got worried if he thought I was in pain, and he was much more perceptive than most kids his age.

Even with my caution, Jamie's eyes narrowed. Luckily, Mel interrupted his gaze, as she rushed down the stairs. Long fingers were still combing through her wet hair. "Of all the guys, I get the one that actually arrives on time..." She was muttering under her breath, a habit that she never confessed to having. Freezing at the bottom of the stairs, she glared at the three of us. "What?"

Jared moved towards her, and even Mel couldn't keep the irritation on her face. Her eyes matched his, with a deep warmth that even bystanders could feel.

I looked at the ground, and felt my cheeks heating. Not that they would notice. The two were built for each other. Anyone who looked at them could see it.

As Jared, one arm around Melanie's hips, the other brushing hair from her face, escorted her to the door, I wondered as to where that left me. Alone was the obvious answer, though one that was neither pleasant nor helpful.

"What're you doing today, Wanda?"

Jamie's innocent question brought me back to the moment, and I smiled at him. "I don't know. What are you doing?"

He shrugged, turning back towards his cereal. "I was going to go to the park with a couple friends. We were going to try to get enough for a game." Jamie loved soccer, and was forever goading those around him to play. "Want to come watch?"

How could I say no to those pleading eyes?

"Sure."

I was rewarded with a wide grin, as he began to shovel food into his mouth even faster. I couldn't help but giggle at the sight, before heading upstairs to get dressed. The park was close enough that I could manage with just my walkers, on a good day. But I could already feel muscles complaining, as I struggled up the stairs. It would have to be the chair. I suppose the real luck was that the park was even accessible to wheelchairs.

I hated using mine, though. It made me feel so much more helpless. Useless. A burden.

By the time I had gotten dressed and lumbered down the stairs again, Jamie had gotten all ready, and even pulled my chair from the closet. He turned when he heard me, and there was excitement in his eyes. He had a ball under one arm already, boots dangling from two fingers.

"Ready, then?"

I nodded, making a face as I slipped into the wheelchair, and began to take the canes off of my wrists.

Jamie offered to push me there, but I shook my head, and began maneuvering down the ramp that Mr. Stryder had made to replace the front steps, after finding out that sometimes even two walkers would not be enough to keep me mobile.

I watched Jamie skip ahead, juggling the ball as he walked, and reveled in the summer day's heat. A large moving van rumbled by us, and surprised me by turning into the driveway across from us. So, someone had finally bought the Rauden house. That was interesting, but not something I cared about, really.

"Wanda, you see that?" Jamie had turned to face me, and there was that curiosity that often led to trouble for those around him. "I wonder if they've got kids?"

I just shrugged, catching up to him. "I suppose we'll find out pretty quick."

Jamie's eyes were still on the truck, as the drivers got out and began to full furniture from it. I nudged him with an arm, disturbing his staring. "Aren't your buddies waiting?"

He gave a little start, before nodding, and beginning to jog off in the directing of the field. "Meet you there!" He called over his shoulder. I allowed myself a smirk, and began to follow him.

By the time I got there, the boys- around ten in all- had just finished dividing themselves into teams. I watched in amusement as an argument broke out, before being quietly sorted by a whispered line from Jamie. I admit I might be a bit prejudiced, but it seemed almost impossible to not like Jamie. He had a certain feel to him that pulled at others. You could see it in the faces of his friends, even though they might not realize it themselves.

The ball was placed, and then the game was off. I watched the ball flit from player to player, smiling at the loud catcalls the boys shouted at each other, a good portion coming from Jamie's own mouth.

The play completely absorbed me, so that I didn't notice the steady footsteps walk down the path towards me, before stopping, faltering as their owner was surprised. It was almost a full minute before they recovered enough to continue, though the steps were slower, lingering.

If I had turned around, would I have noticed anything of significance? I wonder. Instead, I pulled my hands together, applauding Jamie's latest successful attempt at the net.

But I can't help but pull out the 'What if...', if I had only turned around.


	3. The New Kids on the Block

This chapter is dedicated to Willow (BloodSucker2008) her buttkicking, and our new deal. You won this time.

Anyway, I don't own anything in this chapter. Because I'm just not cool enough. Also, I have decided that this will probably be written in mostly Wanda's point of view, because after writing this whole chapter in Ian's POV, I have found out that Ian is much too hard to deal with.

IAN'S POV

Would it be fair to blame it all on Kyle?

It would be the easiest choice. We were moving because of him. His girlfriend had disappeared six months ago, and the local cops had called off the search. His first instinct was to get angry. And his second was to run away.

This was not what he called it, of course. He was relocating. He needed away from the city. All right. I didn't want to fight over it. Though, as we packed up our apartment in New York, and started to move into our uncle's house in quiet suburbia -left empty since his wife had died, and he refused to leave his vacation home, which was somewhere in the tropics- I felt much more the older, mature brother than Kyle. If it weren't for the slight difference in heights, we could have passed as identical. Most people found it hard to believe that he was almost five years my senior. Twenty six, and already convinced he had lost his girl. It made his quick temper even harder to bear.

Us O'Shaes have bad luck with women. Our dad called it a curse, but I wouldn't go that far. It was just that things never seemed to go our way. Our mother had split after seven years of marriage, running off with a pool boy, or something. Maybe that's why Kyle ended up so bitter, whereas I, never having known our mother, don't really have any hard feeling about it.

Curse or not, it's what Kyle blamed for Jodi. I chose not to point out that I had lost my last girlfriend in a completely normal way. She had dumped me.

I hadn't minded. She had ended up being rather boring.

But I've gotten off track. All I wanted to say was that if you want to blame someone, Kyle's the guy.

By the time we had finished moving all of the furniture inside, I was five seconds away from punching my brother in the face.

"I'm leaving!" I shouted over my shoulder, not caring whether Kyle heard me or not.

"Fuck off!" Came the bellowed reply. He had probably managed to drop the TV that I told him to leave downstairs. I could still hear his cursing as I walked down the driveway, and out onto the street.

If I remembered correctly, there was a park somewhere around here. It would be a nice place to go, and one I could get to without taking the truck and giving Kyle even more fuel for his ranting.

The park was closer than I remembered, but I didn't mind. By the time I got there, all the built-up anger I had been holding in disappeared. Maybe all I needed was some fresh air.

Shouting caught my ear, and I followed it, curious. It led me right to a soccer field, and I stopped for a moment, smirk on my lips. A group of young boys chased the ball down the pitch. A tall boy with shaggy brown hair won the race, and brought the ball to the goal, before shooting it over the goalie's head. The ball swished into the net, and there were collective cheers, and moans from the other side. The goal-scorer went and high-fived his own team, before turning towards the sideline.

"See that one, Wanda?" His shout was loud enough for even me to be able to catch every word. "See that?"

If his girlfriend had actually come out to watch, that was just too cute. Though if it were me, my girlfriend would probably be out there playing. I tended to fall for the athletic type. My last girlfriend had long, tanned legs that were just made to run. Thinking about it, her legs were probably her best feature. As I mentioned before, the rest of her was rather dull.

I continued to walk down the winding path, towards the field. Maybe I would stand and watch for a moment, avoid going back to the house just yet.

I didn't even see her until she was right in front of me.

At first, all I saw was her hair. It was so blonde it was almost white, and fell into graceful ringlets over her shoulders. Her hair was the boldest thing about her. The rest of her was tiny. I could tell that, even without seeing her face. She was leaning her head on one small delicate wrist, staring out at the field. This must be that boy's girlfriend. It was obvious now that she couldn't be out there playing, even if she had wanted to.

I took a moment to guess at why she needed that chair. Was it a birth defect? Or something that had happened recently, like a broken leg?

Maybe it was the chair that made her look so- vulnerable. She looked like she needed someone to wrap their arms around her. A protector.

What the Hell? I shook my head, and forced myself to being walking again. Stupid, standing there for so long. Looking like some type of stalker. What was I thinking, that she needed a protecter? She had the boy out on the field, and some parents waiting for her at home. What had come over me there?

I had been hanging out with my brother too much. I needed to go out, meet some people that wouldn't bite my head off for saying the wrong thing.

Speaking of which, Kyle had been given plenty of time to rant. I sighed, and took the path that would lead me back toward my new home.

Kyle had calmed himself down a bit, just like I had hoped. He was occupied with arranging furniture in the living room when I got there, and waved at me distractedly as I entered.

"TV's upstairs," he grunted in way of greeting. "Ignore that dent in the wall."

I nodded. "Fair enough."

He put the armchair he had been carrying done, and turned to glare at me, frowning. "Where'd you go?"

"On a walk." I went into the kitchen, and began shuffling through the cupboards, looking for something edible. "We need food."

"Obviously." Kyle had followed me. "We can go shopping tomorrow."

I grabbed a bagel that we had brought with us, and bit into it. It was stale, but after not eating all day, it was better than nothing. "And what about tonight?"

Kyle reached past me, snatching the last bagel before tossing the empty bag into the trash.

"Well," he said, mouth full as he leaned against one of the counters. "There's always the pub."

--

By the time we got to the pub, it was already dark. Kyle laughed as I was held up at the door and asked for id. I glared at him as I showed the bouncer my license, before stalking over to the bar. Kyle followed me, a stupid grin still on his face.

I ignored him, instead ordering whatever was on tap. I felt Kyle take the stool beside me and double my order.

"Hey!"

The call came from my left, from a girl who could easily pass for gorgeous. My mouth went a bit dry, but I smiled, letting my eyes take in the fact that the short white skirt she was wearing was a perfect accent to her long, deeply tanned legs, and that her mahogany hair reached down to her flat stomach, shown off by the tight- but not tight enough, by some standards- tank top she was wearing.

She tucked her hair behind one ear as she spoke, so I had the opportunity to admire her face as well.

"You're new in town, right? Just moved into a house on Willow Avenue, right?"

I nodded, as my brows knotted in confusion. The girl laughed at my expression.

"We saw the moving van. I live right across the street, in the house with the green door." She leaned towards me, and put out her hand. "I'm Melanie Stryder."

"Ian O'Shae." I shook her hand, then jerked my head towards my brother, who had drifted off to talk with the bartender. "That's my brother, Kyle."

"Well, nice to meet you," she sat back on her stool, as a tall guy with a tan to match Melanie's approached, and wrapped his arms around her waist, bending down to kiss her neck. She giggled, and I stiffened. So. She wasn't available anyway.

You lose again, O'Shae, my mind whispered, though why I had expected such a beautiful woman to not already have a man in her life, I didn't know.

"Jared," Melanie said, her voice unconsciously caressing the name in such a way that made me feel as if I had interrupted something. "This is Ian. The guy that moved into Julie Rauden's old house."

Jared nodded, lowering himself onto the stool beside Melanie, still keeping one arm around her. "Oh. Did you just buy it, then?"

I shook my head. "Julie was married to my uncle. He gave me and my brother the house when he moved."

The couple nodded simultaneously, before Jared leaned down and whispered something in Melanie's ear. Her eyes lit, and she gave me one last smile as she let Jared pull her to her feet.

"We'll see you around, then."

"Nice to meet you," was my witty reply.

The rest of the night got blurry after that, memories smudged by beer and pool and food and beer. I think I beat Kyle, though he swears it was me that did all of the losing.

One of us must have called a cab at some point, because I woke up on my own living room floor, with Kyle snoring on the couch beside me.

I wasn't surprised to see that is was already eleven o'clock when I stumbled into the kitchen. At least Kyle had gotten the clock up and set yesterday. I had no idea where my watch had ended up, in all of this post-moving mess.

"Shit!"

That was Kyle. He dragged himself into the kitchen, holding a small white bottle in his hand.

"Why the fuck did we bother bringing an empty Aspirin bottle with us across the country?"

I shrugged, trying to ignore my own splitting headache. "I'll go get some," I muttered.

"Get some food, too." A couple twenties hit me in the back, curtsey of Kyle. "I have to find out if that job offer I got still stands." He sighed, then lumbered out. "After I go sleep."

I mumbled something under my breath that even I didn't understand, before going to search for my keys.

But before I even had a chance to look, the doorbell rang.

"Fuck!"

Ohhh! What a horrible cliffhanger. Any guesses as to who is at the door? Virtual brownies to anyone who guesses right.

Gah. I should not be allowed to write author's notes after 10 pm...


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